


half-truths and charms

by ElasticElla



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Post Episode: s02e09 Bound By Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10038251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: But there’s somethingoffin Raphael's demeanor, and he doesn’t trust his words. If making sure he isn’t compromised means spending his evenings with Ms. Lightwood once more, Meliorn will make that trade.





	

**Author's Note:**

> because i'm forever weak for ships on different sides that are uncompromising in their needs
> 
> for the [ficathon ^.^](http://ladygawain.livejournal.com/83816.html)

Meliorn should let it go. Raphael wasn’t the type to lie for a shadowhunter. But there’s something _off_ in his demeanor, and he doesn’t trust his words. If making sure he isn’t compromised means spending his evenings with Ms. Lightwood once more, Meliorn will make the trade. He writes his queen a letter, of why he remains and the state of the vampires and werewolves and warlocks. The two other knights take it, don’t question his decision. (A good sign to be sure, as if it was the wrong one, they would be punished for allowing him to remain.) 

The warlocks are a lost cause unfortunately. Magnus is too strong, too smart to lose his position, far too involved with the shadowhunters. He wonders if the Lightwood boy knows of Magnus’s past, of what his magic has wrought. But no, forcing a split will only anger Magnus, and Meliorn does not need such an enemy. 

The werewolves look better. Most of them are on the brink of revolting, and one of them already tried to kill Clary. It shouldn’t be too hard to ensure Luke is replaced- they all knew of his soft spots for the Fairchild women, but what of his own sister? There were whispers of Valentine holding her hostage- laughable, a previous circle member herself- and that their Alpha didn’t take the shot. 

And for the vampires, Meliorn sends a flutter of red and deep purple butterflies to Isabelle. His armor is just removed when she appears- she always did have wonderful timing. He sets it on a chair, wearing just his leggings, and turns to her with a shallow smile. 

“Hello Isabelle. I am pleased to see you.” 

Her eyes go wide, and she almost stumbles in her haste to reach him. “Meliorn, what happened? Does it hurt?” 

Her fingers hesitate over his skin, her eyes tracing the thin web of scars that start at the bottom of his ribs and climb all the way up to his face. Her eyes are wet, and Meliorn leans into her hand. Her fingers gently trace them, moving quick now that she knows she’s allowed. 

“My queen was not pleased about a shadowhunter using one of her realms. They do not need to hurt, they are a reminder.” 

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, voice broken. 

He blinks, a recollection nearly coming to him. It’s her reactions, slightly off, slightly too much as if she isn’t sure of them. She’s off, and the picture clicks together- Raphael was on blood again, and not mundane. 

“It was my decision,” he says, doesn’t add that it was a poor gamble. Valentine’s death would have been worth her being in the realm, but she failed her task. 

“Is there anything I can do?” she asks, fingers still tracing. 

“Have tea with me,” he says, and Isabelle’s laugh is a little too loud. 

“Mhmm, is it going to be like the last one with mushrooms?” She gestures down to her short dress with a smirk, “Because I’ll need to borrow some pants.” 

Meliorn smiles, “I’d never seen such exquisite cartwheels.” 

“And neither had your friends.” 

“No,” he says, cupping her wrist gently. Her eyes widen, and he’s sure he has the right spot. “It will help with this, can cleanse your body.”

Izzy snatches her wrist back, cheeks burning as she backs up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Meliorn sighs, “Enough vampire venom will kill you, and I’m sure you’ve tried to detox. Please, Isabelle.”

Her eyelashes flutter down, but she doesn’t move to the tent’s opening. “I can’t- I’m not strong enough to stop," she admits. 

“I’ll be with you. By tomorrow morning, it’ll be done,” Meliorn says. 

Izzy places her trembling hands in his, “Okay.” 

The tea is a simple brew, only needs a few minutes to seep. 

“What will it do?” she asks, as he drops iris petals into the kettle.

“It will trick your body into thinking more time has passed, shortening the unpleasantness.” 

“Perception magic,” she says softly, awed. “Thank you.” 

His lips twitch, “You can thank me after all of your cravings are compounded.” 

She winces, but doesn’t look to the exit. He pours her a tall glass, gesturing to the rune on her elbow. 

“You’ll want to activate that one. The more you can drink, the faster it will be,” he says. 

She does, accepts the steaming glass and downs it in two large gulps. Meliorn takes the empty glass and her bracelet, setting them aside and then he carries her to the bed. 

“Easy, the less movement you make, the better.” 

“Need it,” she mumbles, trying and failing to get up. “So weak- can’t- I can’t-” 

Meliorn sits and waits. 

It’s only five minutes or so of Isabelle begging and pleading, offering anything for it, but they drag on. There’s a moment where he imagines what would happen if she killed Raphael, but that would be too easily traced. (Not if they were both dead, and he dismisses the idea. Perhaps too quickly, but he’s too late to implement such a plan.) 

And then Isabelle sits up, her self restored and looking much like she did many weeks ago in the same place. She pats the spot beside her, laughs at his slowness to join her. 

“Just talking I swear, no distractions tonight.” 

So he does, and Isabelle curls up under one of his arms, fingers absently tracing his chest. 

“You’re usually not so quick to break your word,” he says. 

Isabelle’s eyes are bright, her smile true. “And usually, you’re not one to be distracted so easily.” 

He laughs softly, can’t contradict her truth. “Perhaps I’ve missed you.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re turning into a romantic,” she teases. 

“You’re the one who saved me from the City of Bones, I believe you started it.” He brushes her hair behind her ear, fingertips gliding down her neck briefly. 

“And you have just saved me. Curious timing.” 

He can’t help a sly smile, has always enjoyed her presence. “Tell me, if one mundane had to die so all the shadowhunters would not- would you kill them?” 

“If there’s no loophole, yes. What does-”

Meliorn interrupts her, “And for the downworlders?” 

“Of course, but-”

“It’s Clary. She can bring about a more thorough genocide than her father ever dreamed of before,” he says, watches the emotions play out on her face. 

“What if he never gets to her?” Izzy finally asks, “Does her location matter?” 

Meliorn raises an eyebrow, “He has warlocks.”

Izzy exhales, eyes flitting over to his armor. “Your queen wants Clary dead.” 

“Yes.” 

“And you?” 

“I do not like the risk she poses,” he says. “Were we a day away from killing Valentine, perhaps my mind would be different.” 

It wouldn’t, but Isabelle softens at the implication. She’s always put too much of herself into caring for all of those around her, he wishes she could see that. (Not truly, not enough to change her inherently. He does love her.) 

“What if Clary stayed in the faerie realm? No warlock would be able to get her, and she could remain with your queen until Valentine’s death.” 

It’s a pretty solution, one Meliorn can admit he hadn’t thought of. 

“And you think she will march happily to indefinite imprisonment?” he asks, watching her face. 

She cringes, “No. But if she thought she was realm jumping again, she’d do it.” 

“You’d lie to your friend?” Meliorn asks, curious. 

“To save her and neutralize the threat? Absolutely.” 

There’s an underlying sentence that Isabelle refuses to voice, that Clary’s death will become necessary should her plan fail. Meliorn doesn’t think it will though, Isabelle has always been good at playing the diplomat. And this way, he’d have all the faction leaders with him- if perhaps ticked off that he snatched the girl from under their very noses. 

Her muscles shift, and he finds impulsive words coming to his lips, “Stay with me.” 

“I’m not- my body’s too tired Meliorn,” she says. “Don’t you have a new vampire yet?” 

His lips twitch, “My queen doesn’t have me keeping tabs on them anymore. I meant only to sleep.” 

“Monogamy,” she says, eyebrows furrowed as she tries to work it out. “You’ve never wanted such a thing before.” 

“I never had a reason before,” he says. 

Isabelle makes the final leap, “You don’t want me near Raphael.” 

“I don’t want you near any vampire,” he corrects. “If it happened again…” 

He doesn’t need to finish, knows by now Isabelle has done her research. And if the words are truthful more because he wants her alive than he wants the vampires firmly on the downworlders’ side- well, his queen doesn’t need to know of it. His judgment remains clear. 

She relaxes back into his arms, nuzzles into his neck. “Tomorrow, I’ll bring Clary here.”

Tomorrow. The threat would be dealt with, his Queen pleased that war efforts would only need to go against Valentine- not also the Clave for breaking the accords, and his pillow would smell like her perfume once more. 

“I’ve missed you too,” Isabelle murmurs into his skin, and he kisses her forehead. 

Everything would be right soon.


End file.
